filling in the blanks as we go
by andsocanshe
Summary: "It isn't about saving himself the heartache. It's about protecting her. He can't leave that up to chance. He won't." — Pre-Series, "The Other Time" requested by Liz.


"_Prompt__: The Other Time" requested by an "anon" on CuriousCat (it was Liz; schmorygilmore) and beta'd by the queen of my hype club, Heather (kalingswifts)._

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_filling in the blanks as we go_

There's a moment, just a split second as the haze of the darkened city skylight catches just the right angle and their eyes meet — locking for what seems like an eternity in a freefall that he's desperate to surrender to but terrified to need. Her skin is warm against his, soft under his fingertips, and practically melting against his own and Harvey knows that he has never felt this way before. He's sure that he will never feel this way again.

Strawberry stained sheets stick beneath them, the can of whipped cream now on the floor and all that remains is her. _Donna_. He wants to trace every freckle on her smooth skin, learn every inch of her body, and memorize the places that make her moan like he'll need them for the rest of his life.

But he's too naive and reckless and _damaged _to give her that, to give into the satisfaction that making this something more than just a one night stand would bring because it's bad enough that he knows now — gaze fastened on hers, lost in the safety of hazel — that he _needs _her. To want her was one thing and he had from the first glance. To need her was another, and to risk her? He's so sure that he would lose her that he just… can't.

His name falls from her lips in a soft whimper as he thrusts deeper, eyes still frozen in this momentary battle to guard her or throw judgement to the wind. The feel of her hands in his hair, her nails digging into his back or clutching his bicep are the only stabilizing factors, grounding the both of them to this unattainable reality.

Harvey isn't that guy, and Donna — Donna is _Donna_. He's known, deep down for a long time, that he couldn't fall for someone. That he couldn't _let _himself fall for someone. He's never going to fall because it will end and it will break him, or them, and then he will lose. He'll lose. He'll hurt another person that he was never supposed to care about and Harvey is so goddamn tired of hurting the people that he cares about. His parents, his brother… he won't hurt Donna.

But that's when he realizes that maybe it's too late and he has — that maybe he has already fallen for her. That maybe she is the exception, by fault of no one. He can taste her lips on his and touch her skin beneath the pads of his fingers, feel her clenching around him with each deepened movement and for once, it isn't about saving himself the heartache. It's about protecting _her_.

He can't leave that up to chance. He won't.

So Harvey takes what he can for now, knowing that it's selfish. He memorizes the way his heart races when she looks at him like this, lives in the scent of strawberries and _Donna Paulsen _and the vision of her hair against her sheets, loses himself in the warmth of her body against and around his own, and gives into the desperation in the way that Donna cries out as she falls apart beneath him, pulling him over the edge right along with her.

He doesn't know that she's doing the same with him. Maybe he doesn't want to know.

Their breaths even out in unison, coming down from a once in a lifetime but twice that night high and the silence becomes _too _palpable. The sex was slow and all consuming yet vigorous and over too quickly all at once, but what he misses the most is the contact. It's hollowing and lonely and something that Harvey has never felt before, especially not with that person at his side. He longs for her — not just for her touch or the way that she feels in his arms, but for her laugh and her smile, for the way that she looks gorgeous in the shitty lighting of the DA's office and for the way that she knows him.

It's the first time that he has ever wanted… well, he doesn't know what it is that he wants in this, or from this.

_He doesn't want to lose her_.

Harvey doesn't intend to give her anything, but as his eyes linger on Donna's one more time after stepping beyond the comfort of apartment 206, he gives her a piece of himself — completely unknown to either of them. But maybe it was hers from the start.

Maybe he was hers from the start.

And as he walks away, he puts a plan in action to keep her — as self-serving as that may be, but what he doesn't notice is that Donna watches him leave for just a second too long, the longing he'd felt pooling deeply within her. Harvey looks back a second too late, meeting only foreign yet familiar numbers and then he's gone.

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_Thank you for reading!_

_Comments and criticism are always welcome._


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